


Making Toys is a Dauntless Task

by rachaellikestoread



Category: Suikoden, Suikoden IV
Genre: Christmas Elf AU, F/M, Light Bondage, Masturbation, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 01:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8777110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachaellikestoread/pseuds/rachaellikestoread
Summary: Head Elf Lazlo has his eye on the Delivery Strategist.





	

**December 2, SY xxx**

Things aren’t looking good for the Dolls Department. They’ve been severely understaffed. I may need to shut down Paint By Numbers once and for all; nobody buys those anymore. Noah’s not going to be happy with the change, but what is a Head Elf to do?

Then again, nobody’s buying that Mushroom vs. Mint card game anymore, either, but I’m reluctant to interfere with Mao and Nao’s little pet project. They’re so… _weird_. How long have they been working here, anyway? I don’t remember the big man hiring them recently.

I’ve got to keep an eye on Rita. If I don’t watch her, she gets distracted with that new game she’s trying to make. I’ve told her she needs to limit new projects to her own free time, but I don’t think the poor girl can help it. I have to admit; it is a pretty fun game. A little advanced for small children, though.

Basil’s doing well with the tops; he should be done by the end of next week. 

Today, Snowe started complaining that his doll’s arm wouldn’t move. Turns out he poured glue into the joints by mistake. Really, he’d do a lot better over in the Dress-Up Department, but his father insists that we keep him with the other dollmakers. It’s certainly the most envied, lucrative department. Dolls will always be in high demand. That said, I’m exploring the possibility of dividing the Dolls Department into True Dolls and Plush Toys, which are increasing in demand. I’ll have to talk it over with Elenor later.

Ah, Elenor. I find myself coming up with more and more excuses to see her. She scoffed and told me to stop flattering her when I told her she looks like Mrs. Claus. Okay, I might be stretching it a bit, but in a few thousand years, her hair will be just as white as that of the big missus. I’m sure of it.

The other elves laugh, but I certainly wouldn’t mind being in a late December-early December relationship with her. I think I just might get my wish, too—she was very pleased when I gifted her with a few pints of whole milk last week.

It may have to wait until after Christmas, though. Things are looking to be pretty busy this year.

 

**December 3, SY xxx**

Chiepoo, Champo, and (reluctantly) Nalkul have started helping Snowe and the others with dolls. Champo is helping stuff the plush toys with Jewel; the dolls are too shiny for him to focus properly. Nalkul swears he’s not getting into the cookie jar, but I’ve asked Paula to keep an eye on him, just in case.

Phil wants to know if glitter is “in” this year. I’m going to have to ask Pecola. She should know. Phil’s an excellent tailor, but I wish he would do the research himself. And I’m really starting to question if it takes _five_ elves to make accessories. I suspect Lilin and her sisters just like being by the water.

Elenor and I have been discussing how to mass produce jumping jacks. According to Agnes, more than five million requests have been made, over two million more than we estimated. If only we had a trickster, or even any kind of alchemist, this would be child’s play. I may have to employ the sisters to pick up the slack, and Basil, too, once he’s done with the tops.

I think the pressure is getting to be too much for Snowe. Today, he gave several dolls too many joints, usually by only one, but sometimes as many as three. He seems hellbent on proving he has what it takes to be a dollmaker. Jewel isn’t helping; she keeps encouraging him by complimenting his “creativity.” 

Pam’s made some extra cakes for me. It’s really too bad that we can’t send those to the children; I’m sure they wouldn’t care about the latest toy if they could taste her Christmas scones. 

Really, it’s such a wasteful season. We work our asses off to ensure that these kids get the toys they want on Christmas Day, and most of them lose interest in a week. I’ve tried to petition the big man to deliver candy and baked goods instead of toys, but he’s not crazy about the idea. He insists that the occasional bond formed between a child and their toy is worth it.

Back to Elenor…. She invited me to have some milk with her. I declined; we’re really not supposed to drink on the job. I worry about her, because she drinks like a human. Sometimes she even forgets to wipe off the milk mustache. Did she always have a problem with that? There’s something sexy about a milk mustache, though.

White is a lovely color, isn’t it? It’s the color of snow, Mrs. Claus’ hair, and…something else.

I’d better stop writing, or I’ll get too excited to think.

 

**December 4, SY xxx**

Desmond is nervous about our inventory to the point of having a literal panic attack when he discovered that we were down to our last six buckets of blue paint. This is not unusual with Desmond; he likes everything to be exactly as it should be. That’s why he’s so important to our workshop, even if he hasn’t made a toy in nearly a thousand years.

Ever since moving Helga to the stuffed animals, her efficiency has gone up by 600%. It was such an easy solution; I didn’t know why nobody thought of it before. Her pay has increased, too, putting her in a better mood, although she did still break a table from shock when Lo Hak brought her a fruitcake. I suppose it’s impossible to place her in area that’s completely free of breakable objects….

I spoke to Adrienne about her craftsmanship. Don’t get me wrong; she’s an excellent smith. The problem is that she needs to remember that the swords she’s making are toys for children to use. According to Desmond’s estimates, her swords were responsible for eighty-eight injuries last year. That’s eighty-eight too many.

I had to talk Schtolteheim out of pestering Gareth for the Rose Brooch he’s paid fifty cookies for. He doesn’t seem to understand that _all_ other projects are on hold until after Christmas. And Micky’s no help at all. Claims the “young master” can’t help make toys this year because of his Christmas disease. I’m suspicious, but it might be for the best if he doesn’t help. The damage he causes with that get-up will cancel out any help he brings to this well-oiled machine.

Funghi gave me some leftover gingerbread from last night’s dinner, so I gave it to Elenor. She seemed pleased. I’m thinking of asking her out soon. I’ve told the others about it. They all think I should go for it, but are split into “factions” regarding how I should go about it. Tal and Paula favor the direct approach; Keneth and Jewel think I should start out talking about something else, then casually slip the idea into the conversation. Snowe suggested that I ask those close to her what she thinks of me, and then give up if they say she’s not interested. The only person I can think of who’s close to her is Agnes, and I don’t trust her to be honest with me. Jewel, Keneth, and Tal told Snowe that his idea was terrible, and Paula asked if he was jealous. He didn’t react well to that question.

Snowe and Elenor…Hmm…. Well, I suppose if it turns out that they love each other, I won’t interfere. Maybe I’m just flattering myself, but I think Snowe might be a tad immature for her.

 

**December 5, SY xxx**

I broke the news to Noah that there will no longer be a Paint By Numbers Department. She actually took it very well. I guess she really doesn’t care what she does as long as she can eat. I assured her that she and Rakgi will still get to make the kits, but once they’re done, they’re going to help out with the dolls from now on. The hardest part was convincing Noah to take off those cat paws.

With the economy recovering, more people are opting for spending Christmas in tropical climates, which has lead to an increased demand for water toys. Fortunately, Kika and her crew are already on it. Kika’s always been pretty sharp at reading toy trends. I wish Dario would quick slacking off, though.

While Elenor and I were discussing the boss’s delivery strategy, we commiserated about how we elves are really the ones who do everything, and how lazy the man upstairs really is. I mean, it’s not like he’s corrupt or anything. He’s a really nice guy. Nothing’s more important to him than making children happy, and he likes to see smiles on our faces, too. He works his ass off on Christmas Eve. 

But he just does whatever he wants for the rest of the Christmas season. 

“He might do some important things that we don’t know about,” I said. “Like, Lo Seng complained to me that it’s unfair how he and his siblings have to do all the hard work, while all I need to do is make decisions and order everybody around.”

She chuckled and poured herself another glass of milk. “I heard Basil saying the same thing about me. Although we both do our jobs sitting down, so what’s he got to complain about? At this point, he could probably make tops in his sleep.”

“Sleep,” I said. “That’s something I could use lately. I could flop right down on the table here and doze right off.”

“You wouldn’t have to use the table. I wouldn’t mind letting you sleep in my bed,” she told me.

I couldn’t believe my ears. She wasn’t even embarrassed. I wondered if it was the milk talking. I decided to go for it. “Only if you sleep in it with me. You could use some rest yourself, I’m sure.”

“I don’t have time for rest these days.”

Then, I made some joke about tying her to her bed. For the first time, she looked flustered.

“I…wouldn’t mind that, actually,” she said.

I had to cross my legs then, even though I was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to see anything under the table. Could this beautiful woman actually be telling me she enjoyed being restrained? A thousand possibilities raced through my head. I envisioned her, bound and helpless on top of her bed, her legs spread, her eyes gazing into mine with lustful anticipation, her skin flushed.

Before I could think of a good response, the door burst open and Agnes walked in. “Lady Elenor, Desmond wants to go over the recorder inventory again.”

It wasn’t Agnes’ fault—if anyone’s, it was Desmond’s—but I couldn’t help but feel irate at her interruption. When I looked at her, I could see my disdain was not unmatched. I wondered if maybe I could get Snowe interested in her.

Later, I went to the Dress-Up Department and gathered together some scraps of nylon and hook-and-loop fasteners. My work hours are long in December, but there is still time for me to get started on a side project.

But for now, I need to sleep.

 

**December 13, SY xxx**

I’m at my wit’s end.

Snowe put more than two dozen heads on backwards today. Most elves get better at their craft overtime—even the slow ones—but Snowe is actually getting _worse_. Poor Jewel has been trying to cheer him up, but he’s looking really down. Maybe I should just break the news to him: he’s not good at making dolls, and he’s never going to be. But he wants so badly to be a dollmaker for his father.

Even though slingshots are no longer in production, Warlock says Pablo keeps hassling him about the secret to making the ammo. He just has a “scholar’s interest,” he claims. I guess Warlock used to produce ammunition that could break even the toughest of windows, but he quit after someone’s shots killed the class turtle. He’s still afraid a mob of angry parents is going to come after him.

I can tell Oskar’s still grumpy that I split him and Deborah up so she could help Tanya and Frederica with the books. The truth is, the two of them were getting absolutely no work done with their gossipping. I had to break them apart. Oskar is competent enough to make the tea sets by himself.

This will be my first year selecting an “Elf of the Season.” I’m thinking of giving it to Gareth; his wooden toys are amazing, and he carves them with incredible speed. He’s been doing it for over 4,000 years. I’ll have to see if he’s won any EOTS awards in the past thousand or so. Kevin is another candidate; I wouldn’t have the energy to get through the day if it weren’t for his sugar cookies. And out of all the accessory makers, Lilon is the most talented, and the most devoted to her work. The others get distracted easily.

I saved the best news for last: Elenor has agreed to go with me to see _The Nutcracker_. It will be starring one of our own, Mitsuba, playing the star role. Who knew she could dance?

I’m a little nervous. I’ll have to ask Kevin for tips on how to dress.

Now, what to do about Snowe…?

 

**December 18, SY xxx**

I had no reason to worry about Snowe after all. If anything, he was relieved when I told him he was going to be transferred from the Dolls Department to the Dress-Up Department. Jewel was sad to see him go, but we can all get together during lunch. I recruited Ugetsu to take his place. Jiminy Cricket, but that man’s good with his hands.

Kevin and Gary have helped me dress to impress in a sharp, red-and-green suit made of satin. I will be meeting Elenor at 3:00. I can’t wait.

 

**December 18, SY xxx**

What a night! Elenor was about ten minutes late, but she was very apologetic. I know Santa is a big talker, and he’s getting more and more nervous as Christmas approaches. It’s very difficult visiting all the children in the world in one night, and it gets even moreso as the population increases. Without Viki’s teleportation magic, it would be impossible. Still, using the Cave of Time has become necessary in the past thousand years.

It was so nice being able to talk to Elenor without Agnes sticking her nose into our conversations. We didn’t have much time to talk at first, though, because we just barely made it to the show in time.

I had no idea Mitsuba was such a great dancer. And Reinhold imitated a Nutcracker very well, although it was a little strange after he was supposed to turn into the “handsome” Prince. Isn’t he a little old-looking to be playing that role?

After the play, we went out for a bite to eat. Elenor ordered a milkshake. I didn’t want her getting drunk, but I thought that maybe the ice cream would dilute the milk a little. It wasn’t until she was halfway through her fourth one that I remembered that ice cream is mostly made up of milk.

When we got back to the Pole, Elenor was so inebriated, she could barely walk. She told me she had an amazing time, and that she hoped we could meet in bed next time. I told her she’d have to be sober if that was going to happen, and she agreed. I kissed her on the cheek.

I’m in a romantic daze as I write this. I haven’t even taken off my suit. I am in love with this woman.

My little “project” is finished. I’ve managed to make a set of thigh cuffs that attach to the wrists. It’s not enough to tie her to the bed, but it will keep her immobile.

I doubt I’ll be able to spend time with her before the big day. We’re in the final stretch, and we’ll all be working double time through Christmas Eve.

 

**December 25, SY xxx**

Every year we bust our asses to make sure every last toy gets to every last child, and you know what? Every year, it’s worth it.

Today, we reached a new record: 50 million children served. The announcement was made to thunderous, exhausted applause. I’ve never seen Mr. Claus so proud. After Desmond stepped down from the podium, the big man himself decided to speak.

“My elves,” he greeted, his booming voice sounding throughout the room, loud enough for even those at the very back of the room to hear, “with so many children in the world these days, it always seems that _this_ is the year where the world’s population will prove to be too much for us. That is why I have put so many cookies into time-stopping research. Once we have that power, delivering toys to all the children in the world will be as easy as breathing.

“Nevertheless, it may well be hundreds of years before we master that sort of magic. For that reason, we must start the Christmas season a little earlier every year, so that we will have all the time we need to make every toy for every hopeful child in the world.

“Every last one of you has met and exceeded my expectations. Your toys are of high quality and durability. We did not miss a single child this year, or have a single toy break on us. And Ms. Silverberg’s toy-delivering strategy has paid off once again. We only needed to visit the Cave of Time sixty-eight times.”

I gave Elenor’s hand a squeeze, and she smiled at me. She looked more beautiful than ever today in a deep red, sleeveless velvet dress; I didn’t think I’d ever seen her showing so much skin. With her hair done up in a tight bun, she looked 2,000 years older.

“—without our Head Elf, Lazlo!” The big man gestured in my direction.

“Stand up,” she whispered.

I had known this was coming; he wanted me to announce the Elf of the Season award. While the hope of winning an EOTS keeps all of us elves doing our best, it always saddens me when I see the looks on the faces of younger elves who were hoping to win. I know it’s not just the young elves, either—the older elves just do a much better job of hiding their disappointment. It sort of puts a damper on an otherwise magical day.

As the applause and chanting of my name continued, I got to my feet and looked around at everyone. These were elves with whom I’d spent hundreds of years. Snowe, Paula, Jewel, Keneth, Tal, and I had made our first paper dolls in this very reception hall, the sunlight streaming down through the glass roof. Even then, our personalities could be seen in the natures of our dolls. Snowe, in particular, had created several outfits for his already, and when Jewel had begged him to make a wedding dress for hers, he had designed a beautiful white gown with puffed sleeves, blue trim, and “millions” of sapphires. “Because they’re jewels. Get it?”

Today, the reception hall was decorated with red and green silk streamers, each pair forming a peak from which large silver bells had been hung. Mistletoe adorned the side entry (because if it were hung from the main entry, the day would be over before we’d all stopped kissing!), and yes, the hall was decked with boughs of holly. In the center of the room, on a platform so everyone could see it, stood a 12-foot-tall Christmas tree (we elves believe less is more, and typically forego the behemoths seen in human reception halls) bedecked with colored lights, gold and silver ornaments, and candy canes, which would be enjoyed by the children later.

Mr. Claus shook my hand and clapped me on the shoulder. “Nice work, kid,” he said.

I smiled at him. “Thank you, sir.” I got behind the podium and cleared my throat. “Good day, elves.

“This was my first year as Head Elf after the passing of previous Head Elf Glen Cott. Let’s all have a moment of silence for an elf who left this world far too soon.” It wasn’t my choice of starters, but it was customary to do this on the first Christmas after the old Head Elf’s passing. A hush fell over the room, and I slowly counted to thirty in my head.

“According to custom, I am to name an Elf of the Season. This award is given to an elf who distinguishes themself by working extra hard, by inventing a new method of toymaking, or simply by being inspiring.

“I admit, I knew this would be a difficult process. There are so many of you who stood out to me this year; I really wish I could have picked all of you. But in the end, I chose someone who may surprise you.

“This year’s Elf of the Season is someone I’ve had the pleasure of knowing for less than a year. He’s been hidden in plain sight all this time, making beautiful works of art with nothing more than his hands and a carving knife. He was so quiet that even I never knew about the man behind those beautiful figurines until recently. And for the 4,486 years he’s been making toys, he has not once complained about his workload, or about the fact that he’s never received an EOTS.

“The ingratitude on our part comes to an end tonight. Congratulations, Gareth—you are our Elf of the Season!”

As Gareth rose to his feet and headed for the podium amidst deafening cheers, pats on the back, and hugs, I knew I had made the right choice. He was the oldest elf who had yet to receive an EOTS, and honestly, he should have received one much sooner.

The truth was, I had been tempted to elect Snowe. I knew his father was disappointed in him. I could have easily made up something about Snowe being inspiring for knowing when to quit, and having the courage to move to a different department. 

But such a move would have been disastrous. Snowe was still very young by elf standards; most elves weren’t in the running for EOTS until they were at least 2,000 years old. This had been my first selection, and for that reason, it had been even more important than in later selections that I not let my personal feelings decide. Everyone would think I picked him because he was my best friend—or know that I did it because I felt sorry for him. And I knew that Snowe himself had his own sense of pride as an elf. If he was going to win an EOTS, he would want to be damn sure he had earned it. His father was just going to have to deal with the fact that his son was not a dollmaker, and never would be. Was that such a terrible thing?

My big task for the day completed, I returned to my seat to hear Gareth’s acceptance speech.

“Look at him,” Elenor whispered, pointing in Gareth’s direction. “He’s trying so hard not to cry.”

“You did well this year, too,” I told her.

She shrugged. “I’ve been selected for EOTS three times now. It’s not a big deal to me anymore.”

We held hands through the remainder of Gareth’s speech: an entire 45 seconds. Mr. Claus returned to the podium to make a few more announcements about upcoming events, new businesses where we could do our Epiphany shopping (we elves give and receive gifts on January 6, so we’re not distracted while getting everything ready for Christmas), and a brief forecast of the North Pole for the next year.

The rest of the day would be filled with dance, food, and games to celebrate the end of our working season. Humans think they can throw a good party, but I’m certain they haven’t seen anything like a Christmas elf party. Etienne’s lute playing is second to none, and Funghi, Kevin, and Pam work tirelessly to provide the best Christmas feast you ever saw, or tasted. All petty quarrels are forgotten; elves who were screaming at each other yesterday will be hugging and dancing together. Children scream and play, and older elves tell amusing stories about past Christmases. Some of the games have prizes, while others are just played for fun. The sounds of laughter and singing, and later whispers, can be heard long into the night.

Milk flows freely on Christmas Day, but I noticed that Elenor, for once, was not drinking. “Keeping myself sober for tonight,” she said when I asked her about it. She winked and took another sip of sparkling cider. I decided to abstain as well.

It was a great party, but to be honest, I spent most of the time getting to know Elenor better. I knew I loved her at this point, but it’s amazing how one can love someone without knowing much about them. Hours passed like minutes, and before I knew it, it was after ten, and the party was beginning to wind down. In the morning, we would get together and clean the reception hall, a task which always ended up being like a second party.

“I’m amazed, Lady Elenor!” Agnes gushed. “You didn’t have a single drink tonight!” Agnes, in fact, was far merrier than her usual stuffed-shirt self, due in part to the milk _she_ had imbibed.

“I had a good incentive.” Elenor eyed me as she handed a package of cookies to Agnes. “I won’t be needing you tonight, dear.”

“Golly, thanks!” chirped Agnes, greedily hugging the cookies to her chest. “Have a Merry Christmas, Lady Elenor!”

“Merry Christmas.” Elenor watched Agnes sway from side to side as she left the room. “You’d think she was still a young thing, she’s so carefree.”

“So, uh….” I put on my best bedroom eyes. “We’re both full, happy, and sober. If you’re interested, I’ve got something to show you upstairs.”

“Hmmmm….” Elenor gazed coyly at me. “Is it something you can’t bring down here to show everyone?”

I looked around at the remaining partiers—mostly older elves drinking milk, sucking candy canes, and playing cards. “I could,” I said, “but I couldn’t use it in the way I’d like with them watching.”

This _is_ my journal, so I suppose I can just skip to the good part.

I prepared my bedroom by lighting a few multicolored candles and spreading poinsettia petals on the bed. My “gift” for Elenor hung from one of the bedposts, and I had set up a full-length mirror against the wall near the bed.

“Do you like it?” I asked her. “I thought we could start with something small.”

Instead of giving me an immediate answer, she sat on my bed and took the thigh cuffs into her lap, running her hands over the material. She looked so beautiful, so right, wearing that dress, holding that set, seated comfortably on my bed, surrounded by candlelight and flower petals. “I do like it. Have you done anything like this before?”

“No,” I admitted. “I’ve been a little rough during sex before—with the approval of the women I’ve been with, of course—but I’ve never done any bondage. I always wanted to try, but….” I shrugged. “You’d be surprised how many centuries can go by while you’re waiting for the right elf to come along.”

“I don’t think I would be surprised,” she said wryly. She set down the cuff system and turned her back to me. “Help me out of this dress.”

I could feel my excitement building—not just between my legs, but all over my body—as I sat next to her and unzipped her dress. Her back was pale and covered with freckles. I wanted to kiss each and every one of them, but that would take all night. I settled for a spot just below her collarbone. As her dress slipped off her shoulders, she undid her hair, which fell down her back in reddish-gray waves.

She stood up and stepped out of her shoes and the remainder of her dress.

“Leave on the stockings,” I told her. They were thigh stockings, the kind that stayed up without a garter belt. They were sheer, and colored her legs a deep tan that contrasted with the rest of her body.

I took off my shirt and pants and embraced her from behind, kissing her neck and placing my hands on her breasts, which were small and wrinkled and beautiful. I massaged and squeezed them, looking at our reflection in the mirror. One of my hands left her breast and slowly trailed down her belly. Her body trembled against mine.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yes.” She parted her thighs, and I could see her puffy outer labia, slick and engorged with arousal. I was tempted to touch her, but I knew tonight would be more enjoyable if we stretched it out a bit.

I kissed her neck again, then her ear, and whispered, “Let’s get you bound first.”

I picked up the cuff set. “Hold out your wrists.” She did, and I put on the wrist cuffs. “Now put your hands on your thighs.” It excited me to give her orders like this, even if they were small. I secured the wrist cuffs to her thighs by fastening the thigh cuffs, then checked to make sure they were neither too tight nor too loose. “Are they comfortable?” 

“Yes,” she answered. “I can still move quite a bit, though.”

“That’s all right. Like I said, we’re starting small.” I stood up, then lifted her legs onto the bed. “Lie on your back. I want to watch you touch yourself.”

I helped her lay back, and she spread her legs and began to teasingly brush her fingers against her vulva. She stared up at me, her lips parted, the tip of her tongue protruding just slightly. “There’s not much I can do like this,” she told me, even as she slipped a single finger between her labia. I could see the pearl-like head of her clitoris peeking from underneath its hood, but she seemed to be avoiding it for the moment as she spread her labia apart.

At this point, my cock was fully erect, and I removed my undershorts to show her. Her eyes focused on it hungrily, but she didn’t say a word, even as I edged closer.

“Do you want me to make myself come?” she asked. “With a visual like this, it wouldn’t be difficult.”

“I’m tempted,” I said, “but no. I’m not ready yet. Can you reach far enough to finger yourself?”

She tried, but her wrists were too tightly secured, and her fingers couldn’t reach her entrance. “If you want to see any fingers in my honeypot, you’ll have to do it yourself.”

I shuddered with excitement, then lowered my face to her sex, closing my eyes and inhaling her aroma. God, I wanted to lick her so badly—but I wanted to make this last, too. I stared at her pink opening, barely noticeable between her inner lips, but so promising as a source of pleasure for both of us.

“Lazlo,” she panted.

“Shhh, no more talking.” I pressed my lips just above her entrance, rewarded for my efforts with a gush of nectar from her eager body; some of it seeped between my lips and onto my tongue, and I pulled back before I lost control and devoured her without taking time to savor her taste. Instead, I rubbed the skin surrounding the opening to her warm depths. Once I decided I’d teased her enough, I inserted two fingers, pressing upward against her sensitive front wall. “Okay, stop rubbing yourself now. I don’t want you to come yet.”

She obeyed, and I teased her some more, relentlessly stroking the inside of her pussy, watching as a sheen of sweat appeared on her skin. She stared defiantly at me, letting me know she was submitting in body, but not in spirit. Finally, I withdrew my fingers and sucked them clean, relishing the taste of her intimate juices.

I lowered my body onto hers and gave her a deep kiss, thrusting my tongue as far into her mouth as it would go. Supporting myself on one hand, I used the other to rub the head of my cock against her clit. She moaned into my mouth and pushed her hips up against me. I stopped kissing her. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“How do you want to do this?”

“Hmm….” She thought about it for a moment. “Why don’t you take me from behind? I’d like that.”

So I gently flipped her on her front and positioned myself between her thighs before slowly entering her. My breath caught in my throat as I felt her vaginal muscles clench around my cock. Her body was wet, hot, accepting. She moaned beneath me, pushing back to welcome my intrusion.

“Give it to me hard and fast,” she demanded, and I complied with her wishes. Really, it would have been difficult to do otherwise. This was a woman who knew how to fuck back; her pussy made it clear she was hellbent on wringing an orgasm from me, and I had a feeling she could do it without my help.

Not wanting to be outdone, I wrapped my arms around her to gain some leverage so I could thrust even harder. With my face close to hers, I could smell her hair and taste her sweat. I kissed along her neck and even nibbled her ear a little, experimenting with my mouth, seeking out ways to add to her arousal.

“More.” Her voice was hoarse.

One of my hands moved down her belly, stopping just above the bush of hair covering her mound. I caressed her throat with the other hand, wrapping my fingers around her neck, stroking the nape with my thumb. “No more requests,” I whispered. “I’m in charge here.” I started to rub her clit, moving my hand in time to her thrusts against me.

Her hips rolled against mine. “Oh, fuck,” she gasped, wriggling uselessly against her bonds. She couldn’t grip the sheets, and even if she had been on her back, she wouldn’t have been able to pull me deeper into her. She was pinned beneath me and helpless; only I could bring her to her peak.

I closed my eyes and used my remaining senses to try and gauge how close she was to climaxing. She wasn’t what I’d call loud, but her breathing was a good indicator of her excitement. I ran my fingers through her hair, giving it little tugs. I changed the speed of my thrusts, the pressure of my hand against her clit. I teased her, causing her arousal to mount before bringing her back to the beginning. Her frustrated cries added to my own excitement.

But it had been a long day, and I was pretty tired myself. I finally stopped tormenting Elenor and put everything I had into pleasuring her. I could come at any moment, but I waited until I felt her cunt squeezing me with her orgasmic contractions before allowing myself to finish. With my cock inside the most beautiful woman I’d ever known, I had what felt like the most powerful orgasm of my life. I pictured my seed splashing into her womb, and imagined my soul leaving my body; the ecstasy seemed to last for hours.

When it was over, I pulled out and immediately untied her, noting with satisfaction that the cuffs had left red marks on her wrists and thighs. “Are you okay?”

“Mmm…Yes.” When I had finished freeing her, she rolled onto her side and smiled up at me. “That wasn’t bad. Not bad at all.”

I kissed her on the forehead. “Thank you, Lady Strategist.”

She’s sleeping in my bed as I write this. It’s snowing. Snow is a constant here at the North Pole, but it’s not always falling from the sky; it simply doesn’t melt fast enough. It’s strange, isn’t it? No matter how often I see snowfalls, I never get sick of watching them.

Humans place so much value on youth and newness. I think old things—and people—are far more interesting and, yes, beautiful. Whether it’s the weather, the tradition of Christmas trees and toys, or women like Elenor, I believe that which has existed for a long time should be celebrated.

I’ve only lived 1,955 years. It’s wisdom from elves like Elenor and Glen who keep me going. I hope that some day, I can provide the same inspiration for young elves everywhere.

It’s about time I got to bed. There’s only 364 days until the next Christmas, after all.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

THE END


End file.
